


the fall to earth

by softspokenslytherin



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Flashbacks, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Memory Loss, Regression, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25557592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softspokenslytherin/pseuds/softspokenslytherin
Summary: “And when my mind breaks, will I go back to using my body?”Ash asked Papa that, once before. He couldn’t remember when anymore.  Papa talked sometimes about “before” too, but Ash couldn’t remember that either.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	the fall to earth

**Author's Note:**

> cw: dubious consent, self harm, suicidal ideation, drug use
> 
> please mind the tags and take care of yourselves y'all

“And when my mind breaks, will I go back to using my body?”

Ash asked Papa that, once before. He couldn’t remember when anymore. Papa talked sometimes about “before” too, but Ash couldn’t remember that either. 

His brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to think back further and further—

The door to his room opened with a sudden _bang!_ Ash frowned slightly, dismayed that the line of thought he’d been clinging to slipped like water through his fingers again.

“ _Mon beau chaton_.” Papa loomed over him. Ash felt his skin prickle—something about Papa always made him a little afraid—but _oh_ , someone was actually pricking his skin so maybe Ash had the wrong feeling about Papa after all.

Ash watched the man Papa brought with him push the contents of the needle further into Ash’s veins. Whatever it was flowed through his body like molasses, warm and slow, blurring his senses until Ash felt like he was floating, suspended between space and time.

“You’ll do well tonight again, won’t you?” Papa’s thick fingers traced up his bare thigh until they hit the hem of his short, lavender dressing gown. With his other hand, Papa cradled Ash’s cheek, thumb brushing against his bottom lip.

Ash looked up at Papa. The other man’s gaze was like steel cutting through Ash’s swimming vision. Ash blinked in an attempt to clear his head. He hated when the drugs did this to him. 

“Yes, Papa,” Ash murmured. Papa smiled, clearly pleased. Ash had only a moment to relax at this fact before Papa’s thumb was pushing through the seam of his lips. The inside of Ash’s mouth was already beginning to feel like cotton but he still tried to accommodate Papa’s finger nevertheless. It was a promise yet to come, a fraction of what Papa called Ash’s “true potential”.

“Good. I expect nothing less from you, my little lynx.” Papa withdrew his thumb from Ash’s mouth and smeared the wetness of it onto Ash’s cheek. “I will see you in the morning then, sweetheart.” 

Papa straightened, beckoning the other man he brought with him to follow. Ash eyes trailed after them and watched as Papa’s frame blotted out the dim light pouring in from the open door. Briefly, Ash imagined he was a bird small enough to slip through the gap between Papa’s shoulder and the door frame. _Stupid_ , Ash thought as Papa closed the door, _lynxes can’t fly_. 

Ash knew he wouldn’t be alone much longer after Papa’s visit. Still, there wasn’t much else to do other than wait, so Ash fell back onto the bed, closing his eyes as the floaty feeling inside him grew. A few minutes passed before Ash was distantly aware that his wrists were itching.

Ash opened his eyes and flipped onto his stomach to look at the bandages wrapped around his forearms. Ash couldn’t remember getting hurt or who put the bandages there. Was there even anything under them? Mildly curious, Ash picked at the bandage along the top of his left wrist until a corner of the adhesive peeled away from his skin. 

Ash’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of a pink, angry scar peeking out from under the white tape. Ash pulled the bandage down further to reveal another scar just as angry and haphazard as the first.

How did this happen? How could he forget this? _Think, think..._ Ash couldn’t remem—

  


_A dark room, illuminated only by the bright glare of a television._

_He could hear a woman’s voice, loud and urgent. “Thousands of American soldiers, dead from a sudden coup...”_

_Photos of airplanes, carrying only corpses wrapped in flags._

_“...flooded with an unknown drug, possibly the work of—"_

_The room plunged into darkness as the television screen shattered under the remote thrown at it. Ash could feel himself trembling._

_Ash’s gaze lowered to his hands, slowly, almost as if he was afraid to look. A chill swept through him when he realized all he could see was blood on them._

_You killed them. You did this. Youdidthisyoudidthisyou—_

_Frantically, Ash tried to wipe his hands on his shirt, his jeans, but no, no,_ no! _The blood wasn’t coming off. He needed... he needed—_

_The glint of a particularly large shard of glass from the TV screen caught his eyes. Ash fell to his knees, scrambling for it. He placed the edge at the bottom of his palm, ready to scrape upwards._

_But._

_But that wasn’t what he really wanted. Not really._

_He didn’t want to get rid of the blood._

_He wanted..._ Ash’s fingers shifted _...he wanted..._ the glass drifted lower to his wrist _..._

_He wanted—_

  


“Are you ready, beautiful?”

Ash drew in a sharp breath, shuddering as he was pulled back to the present. His heart was pounding and his dressing gown stuck uncomfortably to his back from the cold sweat underneath. On the other side of the room was a heavyset man, balding, and leering openly at Ash. Ash hadn’t even heard him come in.

Shakily, Ash pressed the bandages back onto his wrist, pressing harder than necessary as if he could seal the uneasy feeling crawling all over his skin with it. Ash swallowed and tried to get his voice to work. Except his mouth felt numb and words can barely come out and Papa was going to be _so mad_ —

The man stepped closer to Ash. “Aww baby, are you shy?” Ash shook his head and regretted the way it immediately made his vision spin. He wanted to throw up. Whatever the man with Papa had put into him earlier was still heavy in Ash’s system, the last thread holding him together in front of this stranger. 

“I was just...” Ash started. It was hard to think. He felt like he was floating and drowning all at once. “...wondering how to please you best.”

“Good boy. Come here, then.” Slowly, Ash crawled across the silk sheets to the end of the bed where the man was. His hands trembled against the mattress. His wrists were itching again.

The man reached out, hand dipping under Ash’s dressing gown to slip it off his shoulder. Thick fingers trailed up to cup the back of his head, pulling Ash up onto his knees.

Their lips met and a tongue tasting of beer and cigarettes pushed its way into Ash’s mouth. 

Ash closed his eyes and tried to distract himself from the mouth ravaging his own and the hands roughly grabbing and squeezing anything they could touch under his dressing gown. 

His mind drifted back to _thousands of soldiers, dead_ and...and... Ash didn’t know anymore. Whatever he had remembered were quickly becoming figments again, disappearing almost as if it had been a dream.

Ash could almost cry; the fading of something so clarifying and vivid was an acute loss.

The pain of having lost that singular moment of clarity manifested into something real as the man pushed Ash onto his back, uncaring of the resounding crack when Ash’s skull hit part of the headboard. The man was more frantic now, hot breaths puffing against Ash’s face, hardness grinding insistently into the younger’s thigh.

Ash blinked through the stars dancing across his vision, fingers coming up to clumsily undo the buttons on the man’s shirt and trousers.

After their clothes had fallen to the ground with a soft whisper of fabric, the world tilted again as Ash found himself flipped onto his hands and knees. 

Ash wishes that he was more prepared for what inevitably came next.

Papa said that this was what Ash did best, that Ash was born a natural whore. Papa said that he knew these things. If that was the case, Ash didn’t know why it hurt so much. He hoped that one day, Papa would explain that too.

Involuntary tears spilled down Ash’s cheeks when the man finally pushed into him. Blearily, Ash watched as the man laughed, fingers reaching out to swipe at the wetness seeping from Ash’s eyes.

“Are you hurt, baby? Does that hurt?” The man’s tone was mocking even as he chased his own pleasure. 

For the second time that night, Ash shook his head. He remembered this time, to tell something other than the truth. When he spoke, his voice was soft, breathless. “No... please I... I want more.” 

“Fuck, a slut like you can’t get enough can you?” The man thrusted faster into Ash, making the room tilt and blur with his rhythm. Large fingers suddenly circled around Ash’s wrists, thumb stroking contemplatively at the bandages there. Ash’s eyes fluttered open in surprise. The man laughed again. “You might be fucked in the head, but god if you aren’t worth every penny.”

With a final grunt, the man spilled inside Ash. The warmth stung and made Ash want to curl up, but everything from his limbs to his eyelids were starting to feel heavy. The numb weightlessness coursing through his body earlier was now ebbing, leaving behind tidal pools of fresh aches and bruises. It hurt. Everything hurt. Distantly, Ash felt the mattress rise. A tiny noise of protest left his throat at this and he tried to reach for the man. Ash knew that he had already served his purpose but he hated being left alone after. 

The man, already dressed now, stared down at Ash and chuckled, indulging Ash and taking his hand. For a second, Ash allowed himself to hope.

“Beautiful thing, I’ll be seeing you again soon.” He pressed a kiss into the blossoming bruise on the back of Ash’s hand before letting it drop back onto the bed.

A few moments later, the door clicked shut.

Ash blinked back tears that threatened to spill in the ensuing silence. He pushed himself up until he was sitting and winced at the sight of blood and semen leaking down his thighs. Ash looked at the door to the connecting bathroom across the room longingly, despite knowing that it was locked. Papa liked seeing the aftermath on Ash the next day; it wasn’t until then that Ash would be clean again

Instead, Ash settled for rolling over to the cleanest part of the bed and pulling the covers over his head, giving into the exhaustion beginning to seep deep into his bones.

That night, Ash dreamed of soft brown eyes, midnight black hair, and a kind smile. And for once, nothing hurt.

  



End file.
